Lying In The Bed He Made
by TheCuriousCrusader
Summary: Jim lies in bed looking at Sherlock vulnerably tucked beside him, and contemplates the complexities of their relationship. Expect, maybe it isn't complex, as he does have the power after all…Jimlock.


**A/N:** **Hello everyone! Here is my second attempt at some Sheriarty, I just love this ship. I'm very wary that Sherlock and Jim are a little out of character here, but I hope you can enjoy it anyway. Beware implications of smut. And if you have time, please review :)**

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This was not how he had expected it to go. Well that was not completely true, he had expected to find Sherlock caught up in his tantalizing web of chaos at one point or another – the man was addicted to havoc after all – what Jim had not been expecting was for them to both be lying in his bed after a night of passion like they were any other boring couple in the boring world.

They were by no means a couple – on the contrary, they were sworn enemies, but that was what made it all the more exhilarating. Jim may have accused John of being Sherlock's pet, but Sherlock was his own domesticated companion, and he would never let his consulting other forget that.

Both Jim and Sherlock were drawn to danger, something they shared, and this was the most dangerous situation of them all. Sherlock would not turn to the devil, and Jim would not turn to the side of the angels, so this would be their liminal point of meeting, but what Sherlock did not seem to realise was that Jim still had all the power and could manipulate Sherlock with a flick of his tongue, a touch of his lips.

Sherlock was a sociopath; he simply did not like interacting with other people – but Jim was not other people, he was James Moriarty, consulting criminal, a psychopath prone to violence and destruction who did not care about his own insanity and not even the great Sherlock Holmes could stop him.

Even in their current physical presence – Sherlock nestling his curly head under Jim's arm, who had said arm lazily draped around the other man's shoulders – it was Moriarty who stayed awake calculating his next move whilst Sherlock slept on obliviously, probably why he despised sleep so much, as it was the only time his mind was not working to full capacity.

It had sort of become a silent agreement between them, though it had been Jim's initial intention. He had to draw Sherlock in so close that the detective would not find the will power to untangle himself from Moriarty's web, more to the point, he would not want to.

Sherlock would be so much easier to control once Jim had shown his full potential, done things to Sherlock he knew the detective had never had done to him before – opened his mind to a vast new horizon of knowledge and emotion. Sherlock loved knowledge, Jim knew, but he hated emotion because he could often not comprehend them, and that was his hamartia. By playing with Sherlock's emotions – like by drawing him into bed – Jim knew he had Sherlock beside him confused and vulnerable, and therefore so easy to overpower.

Sherlock stirred for a moment, nuzzling his nose against the bare skin of Jim's chest. The criminal sighed and began to absentmindedly run an arm up and down Sherlock's own bare form. It would be a pity to kill Sherlock really, a waste of a beautiful mind Jim would admit – maybe this_ was_ the start of turning him to the side of the devil. Jim had taken his virginity after all, surely that still held solid confirmations of ownership?

"Wake up, my pet" Jim said in a quiet, soothing tone which was far more dangerous than any high volume yell. "Come on, John will be getting suspicious soon"

"John" Sherlock mumbled in his still half asleep state as his eyes began to flutter open. Jim frowned; he was still thinking of that idiotic nobody.

"You should go back to him" Jim urged "And leave me here to fade away…"

"That will never happen" Sherlock said despite himself; it was something he had grown to accept after many months of trying to take Moriarty down, but he also found he did not quite want to do that anymore.

"Not as long as I have you" Jim replied seductively as he ran a delicate hand down the side of Sherlock's face. "Because you are mine and no one else's"

The detective looked up at him with wide eyes; full of emotion he probably didn't know he was capable of producing. Jim saw a combination of fear, pleasure and caution.

"I belong to no one" Sherlock said firmly, true to his stubborn manner, yet there was something about his words which were unusually unsure, and he so hated doubting himself.

Moriarty just smiled for a moment, before throwing his head back with a low and slow laugh of malice. "Now, I think we both know that's not quite true"

With that, he stooped down and forced his lips against Sherlock's starting with soft systematic movements, but then forming into ravenous nips and licks. At first Sherlock had wanted to pull away, but he soon found himself giving into unwanted desires. He hated it, he hated being so vulnerable, but James Moriarty made him feel something he had never felt before, and he could not handle emotion well.

Eventually, Moriarty was above Sherlock, the pristine white sheet covering the back of his naked form, cocooning them both from any intrusion of the outside world - just them and the bed, nothing else mattered for now.

And so Moriarty took the plunge, and Sherlock hated himself even more for feeling nothing but want and desire.


End file.
